


Friends

by Songofpsalms297



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Evelyn Trevelyan/Cullen Rutherford if you squint really hard, F/M, Hey! What do you know? Another chapter!, M/M, Minor Cassandra Pentaghast/Varric Tethras, So not a fan of Solas, There might be another chapter somewhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8776735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songofpsalms297/pseuds/Songofpsalms297
Summary: Iron Bull considers a lot of different things while tracking Dorian through Skyhold.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I feel there should be at least one more chapter to this...but finals week calls....

Bull was used to having sex. He enjoyed having it with a willing partner. Didn’t matter race, or creed, as long as you weren’t an asshole. Hell, he’d have sex with an asshole too, once.

He enjoyed a challenge though. And the ‘Vint was a challenge. It had been so enjoyable in the beginning with their verbal sparring matches. And then their recreational sparring matches. That worked too. Bull was used to being in control of things, to a degree, giving more than he took. Given his size, and everyone else in relation to it, he’d learned early on that he could do some serious damage if he ever fully gave in to his passions. If he ever just… let, go. But he wasn’t about to start behaving like some ignorant Tal-Vahshoth, even though his government had consigned him to that life. Bull sighed. Tal-Va-Fucking-Shoth. Growling at the memory of Gatt’s enraged face, Bull scrubbed his hand over his own. Downing the rest of his beer, Bull dropped the tankard on the table to his right, along with some change, and nodding to Krem with a smile on his face, Bull crossed the yard of Skyhold. Taking the steps two-by-two, he found himself in the Great Hall.

2:30 in the morning and Varric was still at that damned table by the fire.

“Tiny,” Varric greeted him, “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you prowling around. Give Sparkler a hello for me, will you? Please remind him he can’t solve the problem of Samson’s armor all by himself.”

“Are you still catching up on Merchant’s Guild business? You haven’t moved from this spot since you came outta that room Cass had you naked in. You aren’t still walking funny, are you? Or is Cass?”

Chuckling Varric replied, “That is one hell of a way to be welcomed home, Tiny. I’m pretty sure Sparkler’s got a few plans in mind for you the next time you return from a mission with Evie. Oh, and thanks for the use of those warming oils. I’d love the name of your supplier. Those would go over big in certain areas of Kirkwall.”

Bull nodded, “Or,” he said, “I could just tell you Dalish makes them for me. Let her know what you want, and she will have it for you in a few days.”

Varric’s eyebrows tried to disappear into his hairline. “Dalish makes them, huh? Good to know. ‘Night, Tiny.”

Nodding at the rogue, Bull proceeded to the library where he expected to find Dorian poring over texts, and scrolls. Surprised, to not find Dorian where he usually was, Bull walked to the steps leading to the rookery. Taking the steps 3 at a time he dropped by Red’s table in the rookery. Without looking up from the missive she was perusing, “Looking for our resident rebellious Tevinter, Iron Bull?”

“Usually I can follow the scent of his cologne, but I can’t track him tonight. Have you seen him?”

Leliana smiled, looking into Bull’s bright eye, “He was complaining to Cassandra earlier. Something about misplaced oil, or was it worn out runes?”

Bull chuckled, “I’m off to the forge to rescue his skinny ass from a potentially furious Seeker.”

A rare smile blossomed across Leliana's lips, echoing the twinkle in her eyes,“Enjoy your evening!”

Laughing to himself, he wandered through Solas’ rotunda, nodding at the still painting elf, momentarily distracted by the play of color, and line. Ben-Hassrath portion of his brain kicking in, he wondered, how many messages could be hidden within the individual sections of the mural Solas was painting. Moving closer to a section nearest the door, without conscious thought, he traced a series of grouped dots, a decoration. Solas appeared at Bull’s shoulder. Bull spoke, slightly unnerved, but practiced at not revealing himself.

“This is a beautiful style of painting, Solas. It reminds me of the paintings the fog warriors would create on the sides of buildings in Seheron.” 

Looking at Bull speculatively Solas replied, “It is an ancient art form practiced by many of the elvhen. I learned this particular technique during many of my journey’s into the fade.”

Grunting in acknowledgment, Bull moved away through the doorway to pass through the Great Hall. “’Night, Solas.”

The elf nodded in dismissal, and returned to his work, pondering potential insights the Qunari might have gleaned, then dismissed the thought. The Iron Bull might have been an intelligent for a Qunari, but, he was little better than an ignorant child. Confident that even had The Iron Bull spotted something in the painting, the chances of him understanding what was being conveyed was almost impossible.

Bull passed by Varric’s table, noting the ink well capped, the quill clean and drying, stack of clean parchment near them weighted down by a heart-shaped rock Cassandra had found while she was on a mission with Evie. Bull chuckled at the memory, he'd been passing through the Great Hall to speak to Dorian about dinner that evening, Varric seated in his customary place by the fire.

Cassandra strode into the hall, making a beeline for the dwarf’s table. At the sound of her boots striking the stone, Varric raised his head, smile breaking across his face like the sun after a week of storms. Cassandra had seen that look, faltered, momentarily caught off guard, then resumed her march to the dwarf. Her heart in her eyes she stumbled over the words of where she’d found it, and why she wanted him to have it if he wanted, and that he was an insufferable dwarf who really should stop laughing at her, or she would stab him with her sword. Bull left the hall just as Varric had wrapped his arms around a spluttering Cassandra and kissed her. He’d whooped right along with the rest of the hall’s occupants, sniggering at his memory of the dual glare he’d received from the lovers.

Hustling down the stone steps that lead toward the forge, Bull strained his ears for Dorian’s voice and followed it to the Herald’s Rest. Walking through Bull nodded at Krem, smirking at the his friend's drunken attempt to gain the bard’s attention. Krem was fierce on the battle field but timid in love. Bull knew from experience if you waited too long, the opportunity would eventually walk away, and all you had to hold were regrets.

Appreciating his height advantage in a way he hadn’t the night before, Bull scanned the crowd for his lover. Listening, and following his ears, the lilt of Dorian's voice carried above the crowd, his voice teasing, then Varric’s answering chuckle. Snagging a beer from Cabot with a nod of thanks, and coin, Bull jogged up the steps without spilling a drop. Perusing the room, he finally spotted Dorian seated with Cassandra and Varric at a booth. Dropping into the empty space near his favorite ‘Vint mage, he threw his arm around Dorian by way of greeting. All three of the table’s occupants had large grins on their faces, tears leaking from their eyes, and were gasping for breath.

Grinning, he leaned in to spin a tale of jealous Orlesian royals, a prophesy, chicken feathers sewn into armor, death by chicken bone, and the Chargers having been sent into a dinner to scare someone to death.

Merrily, eyes twinkling Varric, laughed, “Feathers? You guys dressed up in feathers? Tell me you're making this up, Tiny! Or that I can use this in one of my stories?”

Bull laughed, “Sure, you can use it for one of your stories…as long as you tell me what you and the Seeker here used the warming oils for?” Bull's teasing laugh burst into a bellow of mirth as both Varric and Cassandra blushed to the roots of their hair, glanced at each other for support, then turned deeper shades of crimson. Bull loved humans. They were so colorful and easy to rile! The four companions spent the next few hours drinking and sharing stories of adventures gone bizarre, jokes, old wives tales, and favorite drinks.

Eventually, Cassandra spoke up, “I am going to bed. I have enjoyed this and would like to repeat this time with the four of us, perhaps we can request Evie and Cullen join us next time. I believe she would enjoy a chance to, how does she say it? Oh, yes, ‘to let her hair down.’" Her voice dropping to a more seductive register, Cassandra turned her gaze more fully on her lover, "Am I retiring alone to the forge, Varric? Or would you like me to come warm your bed? I know how much you appreciate those hand massages.”

With startling alacrity Varric joined Cassandra snaking an arm around her waist, “Well, that’s my cue. ‘Night, Tiny. Sparkler. Same time tomorrow night?” Dorian nodded in agreement.

Imperious eyebrow raised, “When you came in earlier, I got the impression that you were looking for yours truly?” At Bull’s nod, Dorian continued, “did you wish to continue our conversation in my quarters?” Bull leered, Dorian feigned a long-suffering attitude, “Shall we?” Bull again nodded, escorting his beautiful Tevene lover to Dorian’s room, overlooking Skyhold’s garden.

Dorian moved into the room ahead of Bull, seductive glance thrown over his bare shoulder at Bull. Smile quirking the corner of his mouth, Dorian asked, “You coming?”

Bull laughed, shutting the door, “Oh, I intend to.”

 


	2. Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian's POV for "Friends"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure there will be any cohesive story line for these ficlets. At least not after this chapter. Friends (Chapter 1), and Lovers (Chapter 2) are intended to be a set.

Dorian could tell his lover was in a pensive mood tonight. He’d picked up on it as soon as Bull joined their group in the Herald’s Rest. Bull had tried to not let anyone see that he was considering things carefully. Dorian knew Bull enjoyed playing dumber than he actually was because there was a perverse amusement in being underestimated. The joy of turning someone’s wrong expectations on their ear could be incredibly satisfying. Yes, Dorian chuckled, that was fun. Dorian, Cassandra, and Varric all knew Iron Bull well enough to know when something was bothering him, and they respected him enough to allow him the space he wanted while working it out. Sometimes he would share the problem with his friends, and lover, sometimes the only evidence there was something being dealt with was the thoughtful expression in Bull’s eye.

Dorian had been relieved to see Bull set the problem to the back of his mind. He had melted into his lover’s embrace, and focused instead on the ridiculous drivel Varric was sharing as “almost certain historical fact” about a drunk Ferelden noble, a weeks’ carousing, and the “evidence” as to why the Storm Coast had most certainly not been named for its truculent weather patterns. They had all known Varric was spinning bullshit, they had all known HE knew he was feeding it to them. While Varric spun the tale, and Cassandra had hung on every word, Varric’s eyes twinkled, like they did when he had a particularly good hand during Wicked Grace. Bull had bellowed loud enough that Maryden had paused in one of her songs. Dorian chuckled as he caught Krem’s irritated glare. Bull had missed the exchange, taking the opportunity to tell them of a job the Charger’s had completed which included chicken feathers, and bitter, dueling Orlesian nobles.

Dorian’s favorite part of the evening however was when Varric asked Bull for permission to use his story of the Charger’s adventures in a book, and Bull, leering across the table at both Cassandra and Varric had asked the question Dorian had most wanted to know, since Bull had told Dorian he was going to loan their warming oils to Cassandra and Varric so they could test them out. Bull had laughed, “Sure, you can use it for one of your stories…as long as you tell me what you and the Seeker here used the warming oils for?” Much to Dorian’s delight, the couple across the table turned to each other as one, and blushed to the roots of their hair. It made his heart happy that two of his dearest, unlooked for friends had finally opened their hearts to one another. Not to mention the fact that Varric would actually be sleeping in a bed, instead of in that stone throne by the fire. Dorian shivered dramatically at the thought of how uncomfortable that would be. Perhaps Varric didn’t notice it because of some “connection to the stone” that all dwarves were purported to have?

Dorian sighed, it wasn’t like he would ever find out. Varric lied extravagantly. Which was something he and Dorian had in common. That and they both looked damned sexy in red. When Cassandra stood, and invited their resident storyteller to join her in bed, Dorian and Bull wished them a pleasant night, though they really should have said good morning with the sun painting the sky. Dorian and Bull made their way from Skyhold’s pub to Dorian’s quarters above the garden. The four companions could have easily walked the distance together; their rooms were separated by two other rooms along the same floor. But one could not enjoy illicit touches, and kisses in the company of others. For that it was far better to be alone. Noting which path Varric and Cassandra took, he and Bull took another. When they reached Dorian’s room, Bull’s pensive mood had caught up with them. Bull just stood in the doorway, looking to the left of Dorian’s shoulder, unmoving, very obviously lost in thought. But Dorian enjoyed the challenge of drawing Bull away from whatever he was distracted with to enjoy time with his lover. Dorian blessed Evie for having given them all the week after Corypheus’ defeat off. “We’ve been busting our asses for over a year folks. Take some time off. I know I will. See you in a week!” She’d waved cheerily at the group of companions, and in what Dorian assumed was supposed to be an attempt to replicate a graceful exit, Evie spun on her heel and crashed right into the door frame. Poor Cullen had gone ashen, practically insisting on carrying her to the healer’s tent. They had seen the egg rising on her forehead as Cullen lead her out of the War Room. Oh, she was a merry, loveable klutz, their Inquisitor.

Quirking his lips, he looked over at his lover implication clear in his words, “You coming?” Shaking his head as if to clear it, Bull laughed, shutting the door behind him. “Oh, I intend to.”

 


End file.
